


when night falls (i am your escape)

by ifthebookdoesntsell



Category: The Prom (2020), The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: AND YET here i am again lmao, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Smut, I have No Excuse, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Smut, only the tiniest barest hint of plot lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifthebookdoesntsell/pseuds/ifthebookdoesntsell
Summary: Emma hasn’t seen her like this in so long: so vulnerable and slightly cracked around the edges.“What do you need?” Emma murmurs, remaining so close that their noses are almost touching.“I want—” Alyssa begins before embarrassment colors her features.“Tell me,” Emma encourages, keeping her eyes soft.“Want you to take care of me,” Alyssa admits quietly, head dipping. “Want to feel good.”(Or, Alyssa has a bad day; Emma makes it better.)
Relationships: Alyssa Greene/Emma Nolan
Comments: 16
Kudos: 67





	when night falls (i am your escape)

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! i... i don't know how many times i can say this but i legitimately have No Excuse for this. this idea has lived in my head rent free for some time, and i finally decided to put it to paper. 
> 
> i hope y'all like it!
> 
> (title from sanctuary by joji.)

Emma’s sitting up against the headboard when she hears the click of heels against hardwood, smiling since she knows it means Alyssa’s home.

She looks up, corners of her lips turning up until her hazel eyes meet brown ones and there’s a dejection in them. 

In a flash, she’s out of bed, the book she was reading tossed haphazardly onto the bedspread, reaching out to gently place a hand on each of Alyssa’s shoulders in a way that she knows is comforting. She turns her gently so that their gazes line up once more. 

“Hey,” Emma says, quietly doing her best to exude calm without spooking Alyssa. She eases the woman’s satchel off her shoulder, placing it onto the desk. “What’s wrong?”

Alyssa shakes her head, swallowing hard. “That case today? We lost.” 

Emma’s brow furrows. Her confusion is evident. “But that—”

“—Was in the bag?” Alyssa finishes, chuckling a little humorlessly. “I thought so too. Everybody said so. Clearly, I’m not as good of a lawyer as I thought.” She shrugs, looking away, a wryness spreading across her features. 

“Don’t do that,” Emma urges. “It’s just one case.”

“I know.” Alyssa laughs, though it’s impeded by sudden tears in her eyes. “I guess it was the fact that the defense lawyer was a jackass, too,” she admits. “It got a bit too personal after it was all over. Real smug and shit. Asked me why I cared so much, told me it’s just the business.” 

She pulls away from Emma, wandering over until she’s sat on the edge of the bed and begins to unstrap her heels. 

“Oh, babe,” Emma murmurs, padding over and getting down on one knee, maneuvering herself until Alyssa finally looks at her. “That’s so shitty. The best thing about you is that you _do_ care.” 

“You think so?” Alyssa asks, tentative and small. “Sometimes I wonder if that’s the truth.”

“Your heart is so big,” her wife compliments, choosing each word carefully. “It’s one of my favorite parts of you.” 

Emma leans forward, pressing a kiss to Alyssa’s forehead, her insides flipping with how much the woman shakes beneath the touch. She watches as her wife suddenly cracks open, tears falling even as she rubs angrily at her eyes. 

“Why do I care so much about some stupid comment?” Alyssa groans, fire in her tone. “He doesn’t know me! He doesn’t know my life.” 

“That’s right,” Emma agrees, pulling Alyssa closer, hooking her hands behind the woman’s back until she’s knelt fully between her thighs and she’s hanging slightly off the bed, until Alyssa is hunched, her shoulders shivering gently as she allows herself to cry. “He doesn't know you. I know you, and I know that you care because that was us, once,” Emma mumbles, her voice barely above the whisper of air. “I know that you care because people didn’t always care about us.” She tries for a grin, nudging her wife with as much teasing as she deems appropriate. “He just wishes he was anything close to the amazing woman you are.”

Alyssa smiles at her weakly. Emma kisses the tip of her nose, kisses away her tears, which have begun to fall more rapidly, away one by one, swiping the last few that fall from Alyssa’s eyes before grabbing a makeup wipe from the nightstand to sweep away mascara that has trailed down the woman’s cheeks, heart clenching when brown eyes avert their gaze from hers. 

She doesn’t comment, though, dutifully wiping the rest of Alyssa’s face clean without another word, pulling the mask she knows that her wife puts up outside their apartment free. She moves to get up to throw it away, but Alyssa shakes her head, eyes dark and slightly helpless as she locks her arms behind Emma’s back, a wordless plea for her to stay right there, going as far as to pull her down until Alyssa is rested against the pillows and Emma is settled softly between her thighs. 

Emma hasn’t seen her like this in so long: so vulnerable and slightly cracked around the edges. 

“What do you need?” Emma murmurs, remaining so close that their noses are almost touching. 

“I want—” Alyssa begins before embarrassment colors her features.

“Tell me,” Emma encourages, keeping her eyes soft. 

“Want you to take care of me,” Alyssa admits quietly, head dipping. “Want to feel good.” 

“Okay.” Emma knows what she means, knows that part of this is that Alyssa wants to feel real again, wants to feel good about herself, like she’s worthy of what she has. 

Tentatively, she leans down, pressing her lips to Alyssa’s as soft and sweet as she can, placing a gentle hand beside her wife’s head to support herself. 

Emma breathes something akin to worship into every touch, tracing her free hand over the curve of Alyssa’s body with a reverence of which even the Lord would be jealous. She presses her tongue into the kiss, communicates adoration so rich and heady that it’s almost intoxicating, makes them both dizzy as she urges Alyssa to relax against the sheets, wills her to let go of the trepidation that seems to be vibrating from every aspect of her being. 

She allows herself the tiniest smile when she feels fingers tangle in her hair, feels Alyssa tug gently to force her closer, notices how her wife breathes in through her nose before holding it, as if she’s attempting to drown herself in this moment. 

Softly, Emma pulls the woman's shirt over her head, trailing her hand over soft, newly bared skin, pressing her weight more solidly over Alyssa when she feels her quiver, hears her breath stutter. She takes her time, brushing her lips over beauty marks and other features she knows Alyssa deems impurities, places kisses over the line of her collarbone. 

“You’re so beautiful, ‘Lys,” she murmurs, heart aching when Alyssa trembles under the words like she’s not quite sure if she believes them or not. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Alyssa replies automatically, throat bobbing with emotion, with adoration when Emma looks down at her like she’s the most gorgeously breakable thing in the whole world before she kisses her neck once more, discards her bra in one easy motion while Alyssa shifts, forcing herself to put today’s loss out of her head. 

With Emma above her, she already feels less lost, feels more herself again. Emma makes her feel pretty and good, and she all but begs her body to remain still when the woman begins to speak, throaty and hot.

 _“God,_ look at you,” Emma murmurs, tracing one finger over the line of her abs to watch the way her muscles jump as she takes her wife in. “How am I so lucky?”

Alyssa opens her mouth to say that she’s really the one who’s lucky, but she resists because of a sudden look that's fixed on her. She knows that look. It means Emma is taking control. Her heart picks up its pace in anticipation. 

She feels vulnerable under the knowledge, under the fact that her face is bare, that Emma seems to be taking this as seriously as anything. She trembles when hazel eyes meet hers with an intensity that always makes her stomach flip. 

“Tell me if it gets too much,” Emma tells her, waiting for her wife to nod before she presses down, sealing their lips together. She pulls every insecurity from Alyssa as the moments pass, hands wandering with purpose, halting when she feels fingers tangling in her hair. “No touching.” 

Alyssa whines, for a moment testing Emma, keeping her hands exactly where they are. She pulls gently, smirking to herself. “But I want to.”

“I said no touching,” Emma breathes, rougher this time, and it makes Alyssa shiver, makes heat twist in her gut, makes her want to press her thighs together, makes her— 

Emma raises an eyebrow at her. 

She drops her hands, grabbing at the pillow under her head in a show of good faith. 

“Good girl.” Emma scrapes her teeth over her pulsepoint softly. 

_Fuck._

_Okay._

Alyssa’s almost embarrassed at how much her breath stutters at two short words, but she can’t help it. It’s not at all in her favor that Emma seems hellbent on leaving a dark mark on her neck, seems to be quite enjoying herself without moving a single bit, not even placing a thigh between her two. 

“You smell good,” Emma whispers to her, humming contentedly. “Love you. Love you so much.” 

It falls off her tongue so easily that Alyssa’s heart swings around on her ribs. 

_“Emma_ — _”_ she starts.

“I’m taking my time,” Emma interrupts, already knowing what she’s thinking. “Wanna take my time with you.” 

Alyssa bites her lip to strangle the noise that escapes her throat. 

Emma wants to _take her time_ which usually means—

“Sometimes, I think about you,” she hears first, soft and teasing. 

_Oh God._

Alyssa already knows that where this is going she doesn’t stand a chance.

“When I’m bored, or when you’re away,” Emma continues, mouth trailing down until she can press kisses to her shoulder. “I’ll think about how beautiful you are.” She looks up, eyes gentle. “I’ll think about your smile. I love it when you smile.” 

It’s like Emma conjures it, because suddenly, Alyssa can’t keep the corners of her lips from turning up. She grins back. It makes Alyssa’s heart do a backflip. 

“See!” Emma says, awe slipping into her tone. “There it is. There you are.” 

Alyssa blushes; her throat tightens. 

_God, she loves this woman._

Emma rises up, abandoning the spot she was beginning to mark just below her collarbone until they’re nose-to-nose. 

“You know what else I think about?” 

“What?” Alyssa asks, breathless, eyes dark. 

“Kissing you,” Emma whispers. “Your pretty mouth. How good it feels when you eat me out, how good it is around my strap—“ 

Alyssa chokes, redness rushing down her neck. Sure, they’ve done that before, but she didn’t know that Emma thought about it, that she liked it _that much—_

“There’s something about you on your knees,” the woman supplies, forcing brown eyes to meet hers, irises filled with mischief and arousal at the way Alyssa has begun to shift beneath her searching for any kind of relief. “There’s something about you being so, so good for me like that. Even when you just lay back and take all of me—“

A whimper tears from Alyssa’s throat. 

There’s a slight fog in her brain. She can’t remember how they got here, can’t focus on anything except the heat pounding through her, except Emma and her solid weight, how she feels like sanctuary, like home, like letting go and holding tight all at once. 

Emma surges down for a kiss, presses her tongue into it once more, grins when Alyssa whines, jerks forward and grips her pillow tighter as not to instinctively grab at her wife’s t-shirt. 

“Love the pretty noises you make,” Emma murmurs against her lips. “I love hearing you like this.” She runs her hand along Alyssa’s side, over her ribs, the curve of her waist. “I love your body.” She smiles when she feels Alyssa tremble, breaking some of the tension when she looks down and cups her breasts, joking, “I love these a lot too.” 

Alyssa rolls her eyes but a flush still continues to spread over her skin, especially when Emma thumbs over the swell of her right breast, noses gently down her neck, over her sternum until she can capture the hard peak of the left in her mouth. She swirls her tongue over it, humming in amusement when her wife’s hips jerk up. 

_“Emma,”_ she gasps, her voice pitching up into a whine. _“Please—”_

“I love how responsive you are.” A thumb rubs over her hip bone. “Love that you’re such a good girl.” 

_“Please—”_

Alyssa can’t catch her breath. Fire courses through her, her mind empty of anything but Emma, but the ache between her thighs, exactly as she requested. She feels _pretty_ and _wanted_ and—

Emma’s fingers ghost beneath the waistband of her slacks, nails scratching gently, grinning when goosebumps erupt in the wake of the movement. She continues to wander over the soft skin, seemingly looking to see how far she can push Alyssa before she completely melts, before she breaks and begins to babble and curse. 

Her eyes flicker up to Alyssa’s face in surprise when the words never come. Instead, her gaze meets Emma’s with a newfound sort of desire, as if she’s waiting for Emma to take the lead, for Emma to tell her what to do. 

It makes her lose her breath, knowing that Alyssa, who normally craves control, who normally takes it by its metaphorical collar and has a firm handle on everything she does, is giving her this, _wants_ her to do this. 

She doesn’t take the gesture lightly. 

“Love you like this,” she murmurs, acknowledging the shift, kissing over rippling abs as she finally divests Alyssa of the rest of her clothes, pulling them off in one smooth move before tossing them to the side, noting that her wife’s lace panties are beyond ruined. She begins to nose at soft inner thighs. “Love that you’re mine.” 

In a moment of clarity, Alyssa breathes in at the word, at the implication of possession that makes her heart swell and clench all at once. All she’s ever wanted was to belong to somebody, so wholly and wonderfully—

“Yours?” she manages to say through the arousal and heat of the room. 

“Mine,” Emma confirms. “My good girl. My best girl. My only girl.”

Alyssa quivers, the weight of the statements settling deep inside her. Shamefully, it makes wetness spread further down her thighs, makes her grind against air as Emma continues her slow trail up the inside of her thighs, littering marks as she goes, nosing at the crease of her leg. 

She’s about to snap, about to demand and beg and do whatever Emma wants just so that she can finally be touched, but then, in a flash, there’s a mouth on her, and all coherent thoughts leave her brain. 

Her hips rise of their own accord, conveniently timed for Emma to place an extra pillow under her back, to move so that both of Alyssa’s knees are over hooked her shoulders

Emma smiles, swiping her tongue experimentally from Alyssa’s opening to her clit, pulling back gently to say, “You taste good.” 

Alyssa tries not to come on the spot. 

Sure, Emma’s said it thousands of times, but there’s something different now, something more emotional and almost spiritual as Emma retakes her position, traces lazy patterns, humming a sort of silent praise all the while. 

The stimulation makes it difficult for Alyssa to focus, to remember where she is, what the rules are, and her hands slip from under the pillow beneath her head before it’s possible to pull them back. 

She fists a hand in Emma’s hair, forcing her closer without another thought. Part of her wonders if Emma will stop, will reprimand her, but the rebuke never comes. 

Instead, Emma grins, the expression so wholesome and also _hot_ that it makes Alyssa’s thighs shake, makes her dig her heels into Emma’s back. Still, it’s not nearly enough, and she knows that her wife is teasing, knows that the ask is implicit, knows that if she wants Emma to call her _good_ again, she’ll have to give in—

Her eyes shoot open when lips seal around her clit, suck firmly for a moment before reneging on the pressure, pulling back completely until only the tip of her tongue is teasing at her entrance, until—

 _“Emma!”_ she forces out. 

“Yes?” her wife replies, teasing and rough. 

_“Please!”_ Alyssa whines. 

“What is it?” Emma murmurs against her. “Do you need something?” 

Alyssa groans, tugging the slightest bit harder. 

“Use your words,” the woman reminds, now tracing the crease of Alyssa’s thigh with a rough fingertip. _“Be a good girl, ‘Lys—”_

Resolve snapping, Alyssa squeezes her eyes shut, trying to gather herself enough to speak coherently, enough to be _good_ the way Emma wants.

 _“Need you,"_ she whimpers, unsure what else to say, abs quivering slightly. _“Just you. Please?”_

Emma stutters at the words. Alyssa realizes what she said, realizes just how much she means it. All she needs is Emma. It doesn’t matter what’s going on outside their little bubble. All she needs is to be this close, to be wrapped so fully in this love. 

“Okay,” Emma affirms, rubbing comforting circles against her leg as she gently presses forward again. “Okay. I got you.” 

Alyssa’s fingers tangle once more in curly hair, holding her close but not forcing her nearer, once more giving up the control, waiting for the pressure to build however Emma wants it to. She’s breathless even as the movements remain soft, exploratory, and she feels herself getting lost, drowning in the euphoria that’s starting to impede all her senses. 

_“God. Please,”_ she mumbles again, head tipping back when Emma complies, taking her clit into her mouth and swirling her tongue over it while craning her wrist to press two fingers inside. 

She begins to move in time, curling back against Alyssa’s front wall as she circles her tongue rhythmically, presses over it, traces a pattern that suspiciously seems to spell out Emma’s name, until her lips are parted and she can barely breathe, and she can do nothing but force her wife even closer, make a strangled noise in the back of her throat.

 _“Fuck, Em,”_ she manages to gasp, seeing stars behind her eyes. _“Fuck. I’m gonna come.”_

Emma hums in reply, groaning quietly when Alyssa clamps down on her fingers, tight and hot, when Alyssa moans her name, louder this time, when Alyssa’s breath leaves her body and her head tilts back further as if she’s seeing God. 

There’s an infinity to this moment as Emma watches Alyssa fall apart, as she finds release from the tension she’s held since the moment she walked through the door, as she lays herself bare, gorgeous and perfect, all hard edges and soft curves.

“You did so good for me,” Emma tells her, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand in a way that makes Alyssa’s insides turn with new heat. She puts it aside for a moment, enjoying the way Emma’s lips feel as they trail up her body, groaning when she tastes herself on her wife’s tongue. “I love you so much.”

Alyssa smiles into it, shy as she tries to recover and her pulse still pounds in her ears. “I love you too.” 

Emma kisses her again, kisses her until Alyssa almost forgets her own name, until she’s sunk down into the mattress, until a security descends over both of them, until Alyssa finds herself so sure that this must be what safety feels like, must be the closest thing she’ll ever get to heaven, to sanctuary from any storm that ever rolls through. 

Emma kisses her and she feels complete, feels as though all the waiting in her whole life has finally come to an end, feels as though she has everything she could ever want right in her grasp. 

Their noses brush. Alyssa grins wider, knows that this is what she wants for the rest of her life, wants to have Emma close for every minute of it, wants to make the most of every second they’re allowed. 

She’d equate her wife to an angel, but that doesn’t seem right. Emma is so much more than that; she’s the comforting presence of stars on the darkest of days, the warmth of a crackling fire when snow has just fallen. She’s the bearer of harsh truths and the teller of the whitest of lies that keep people from heartbreak; she’s the softest of plush and the hardest of diamond. 

Quite simply, Alyssa thinks, Emma is everything. 

“Where’d you go?” the woman asks, pulling her from her thoughts, suddenly aware of her musings. 

“Nowhere,” Alyssa assures, pulling her down for one more kiss, cupping her cheeks. “I have everything I need right here.” 

**Author's Note:**

> ....again i have no excuse lmao, but i'll ask the usual question: what did you think? if you enjoyed, consider dropping me a comment/kudo down below! it would make me feel smile lmao. 
> 
> as always, i'm @ifthebookdoesntsell on tumblr. my askbox is always open for prompts or whatever is on your mind. 
> 
> be safe x


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